Best 26 quotes of Aleksandr Voinov on MyQuotes

A gentle, warm, sweet pain spreads through my chest at those words.

Aye, that’s me. Rough tough squaddie with the intellectual depth of a shallow baby bath and the educational background of a hedgerow. Complicated? Yeah, right.” Dan laughed. Vadim laughed, too. “Sorry, but that just about nails it.” He grew more serious and whispered. “But you also have the heart of a tiger and the vastness of a mountain.

Blood, pain and an all-surpassing lust for one man settled so deeply into his bones, the need had become part of him. Bottomless, like the touch he craved. Vadim.

Dan didn’t want to say anything, but the words were unstoppable. “I fucking love you. Don’t leave me. You’ve got to find me.” Again, fucking tears. Vadim shook his head, then pressed his face into the crook of Dan’s shoulder, hoped to hide his weakness and felt like a man condemned to die. “I will... find you. If it’s the last thing I’ll do, I’ll come back. Nothing will stop me.

Dan pulled him in. Anchored him. Secured him, like one mountain climber to the other, rope and irons and nothing but the abyss if the rope failed. “It will work. I haven’t got this far to give up.” “It’ll work.” Dan’s kisses grew more intense. “It must.” Because you’re mine, and you belong to me.

He’d do anything, absolutely everything for this man, suck him, kill, kill himself, run away, be something else, anything else, everything just blurred, darkness, a place inside that only held him and Dan. Nobody else, nothing else, no time, no place, no affiliations, no past, no future.

He understood it then. The potential, the utter, unbelievable freedom to be whoever existed underneath his skin.

I’d die for you, Dan. No questions asked.” “No, Vadim. No.” Dan’s dark eyes were unforgivingly intense. “You must not die for me, not ever. You must live for me, you understand?” His fingertips rested on Vadim’s face. “Give me your word, you will live for me, whatever happens. Even if I never see you again. I need to believe that somewhere, out there, you are alive.

If I don’t wear anything, I’d probably make the food go off, and the children run away screaming. What with all the scars and all. I’m not what one could call particularly pretty.” Unlike you, Vadim, and your goddamned perfection, except for a word cut in blood and flesh. Vadim shook his head, already retreating towards the open door. “'Pretty' is different,” he murmured. “'Pretty' has no scars. You are... Jaw muscles tensed again. “Like the morning sky in Afghanistan. Not ‘pretty’. Word’s ‘breathtaking’.

I love you more than I can say, than I can even think and what you give me takes my breath away, but breathing is overrated when I can kiss you.

I need you.” He could not go any further down. Rock bottom. And at the very bottom was just this one thing. The core of it all. “Fucking... love you... too much.

I thought I was better than you.” He felt too much, was tearing himself open with all this, but nine years deserved all his pain. “How wrong was I.” Vadim reached behind him to touch Dan’s neck. “I wanted you even then. And I was... curious. I tried to... get into your mind, and instead let you in. Not good, and yet best thing I’ve done in this whole war.” “Best thing I’ve done in all my life”.

I tried that too, you know. After ... my family was murdered, and I was waiting for justice, I tried to hide inside a bottle. But some men, Tony, [..] are not small enough to fit into a bottle.

I've only ever really been afraid of the fear, but right now, I fear nothing.

Make that cage golden, it’s still a fucking cage.” “Wel , in the absence of other options, gold will have to do.

Me, i'm going to write ass-kicking trans* characters. I think I might end up writing not a single thing that is "pure" by some people's standards. Just because, and because I can.

No war is ever glorious. Heroes are usually dead. Besides, they rarely turn into heroes because they are super-humans, but because of circumstances.

One touch from you...,” water coated his lips, gathered in thick drops on his dark lashes, “makes me feel more than a whole goddamned orgy.

Some men want to win a gold medal, some want a family, some want to be rich, some want to be free, some want to kill other men, and some men want to do the right thing. Me, I only want you.

There’s no glory in this whole shit. No war is ever glorious. Heroes are usually dead. Besides, they rarely turn into heroes because they are super-humans, but because of circumstances. Heroes rarely think. Heroes just act. So, all this is, is a stage for glory, small, personal and up to each one of us.

The shade melted away as the sun climbed into its zenith. All colors were now covered in stone dust. The only vigorous activity came from the bushes, where cicada songs pulsed like alien hearts.

Vadim swallowed, felt his throat too tight to move, then, still staring at the bottle, smelling the desert and Dan, and himself, his hand reached to his side, opened the holster of the pistol. Took out the mag, took the bullet from the chamber, clicked the mag in place again, rolled the bullet between his fingers. He looked at Dan, sideways, saw the man stare at him, all eyes, dark eyes, and the way the pale desert moon made his face a place of shadows. He reached for Dan’s hand, opened the fingers and placed the bullet into the palm. “This is the bullet you’ll use to kill me if I walk away again.” Because if I walk away again, I’ll be in so much pain I’m better off dead anyway.

Wife, to him, was someone who stood for stability, for coming home, for dealing with all the shit he wasn’t able to deal with. For providing a real life and not this insanity.

You made me human. I stand by that. You made me into somebody I would have wanted to become, if I'd ever thought about what I wanted to be that wasn't about a record or power or a rank or some...delusion I was chasing. If all that was gone and stripped away, the man I am, I am because of what you did, what you made me feel all those years.

You're my home. I will find you.

You want the truth? I’ve been fucked and betrayed often enough to not trust anybody. And that includes you.” Frank shrugged. “Don’t take it personal.” “Join the club. We meet Tuesdays. We never share the location with each other, and we show up armed.